To Chavez



 By Ashutosh Mohan

Away, away
Deep down south
He succumbs to nature
The masses forlorn.

Who’ll call a devil
The Devil
Use wealth to comfort
The evil.

Let not silences mourn thee
O friend unto the last
A thousand hidden flowers
By mossy stones
In a volley of protest
Pour into the
Valley of unrest.

Then let the truth
Rise’n bloom
In a collective
Serenade.

For, the fight live on
Eternally

They thought we’ve
Laid you
To rest.

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